


Magic Touch

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [30]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkward Boners, Ben is decidedly NOT a prostitute, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Message Therapist Ben Solo, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Rey is in a dry spell, She thinks Ben is a prostitute, Table Sex, horny rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-16 02:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “You know,” Poe drawls lazily. “I could set you up for an appointment with a guy I know. Relieve some of that tension.”She has to squint to focus on his face, even with the way he’s leaning in to whisper this as if he’s telling her a secret. “An appointment?”He nods. “I know a little place downtown. It’s not in the books—but they do great work.”She’s already imagining a hazy den of smoke with over-fluffed pillows and half-dressed men standing around with their dicks barely covered.“What the hell,” she mutters. “Call them.”In which Rey is going through a dry spell, and she’s the only one who doesn’t realize Ben wasn’t hired to help her end it.





	Magic Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! ❤️
> 
> I saw this prompt:  
_Due to an awkward misunderstanding, Rey thinks her friends have hired her a male prostitute. Ben’s a professional masseuse who can’t figure out why his beautiful new client is being so weird._  
on Twitter—and I couldn’t resist. This is silly crack. 😂❤️

* * *

Rey has had one too many.

More accurately, Rey has had nearly _ four _too many. 

She’s not the type to throw back her alcohol so cavalierly, nor is she the type to start pouring out her every grievance with life over a bar top as soon as she goes from _ slightly _ tipsy to _ completely _ hammered_. _

“I’m telling ya,” Poe slurs. “Anyone would want to fuck you.”

“You’re bias,” she groans. “You only want penis.”

Poe wrinkles his nose, nearly falling off the bar stool as he glances around the crowded bar to see if anyone heard. “Don’t say penis so loud.”

“Penis, penis, penis,” she echoes petulantly, the last _ -is _ breaking off in a giggle. “That’s a funny word.”

“Suddenly it makes a lot of sense that you’ve had such a long dry spell.” Poe rolls his eyes, as he takes another long draft from his beer before setting it down with a soft _ thud. _ “Has it _ really _been a year since you got any?”

“_Yes,” _ she whines. “Between the startup and the long hours and the disaster that is online dating—I have been reduced to strictly _ self help.” _

“Can your hymen grow back after that long?”

She grimaces. “Don’t say hymen.”

“Hymen, hymen, hy—” She shoves at his shoulder, nearly knocking him from the stool as he bursts out laughing. “No wonder you’ve been so tense.”

“_Horribly _tense,” she grumbles. “But what can I do? It’s not like I can club a man over the head and take him back to my cave.”

“You know,” Poe drawls lazily. “I could set you up for an appointment with a guy I know. Relieve some of that tension_ .” _

She has to squint to focus on his face, even with the way he’s leaning in to whisper this as if he’s telling her a secret. “An appointment?”

He nods. “I know a little place downtown. It’s not in the books—but they do great work.”

She’s already imagining a hazy den of smoke with over-fluffed pillows and half-dressed men standing around with their dicks barely covered.

She blinks as she stares behind the bar, trying to piece it together, as Poe prattles on about something she can’t make out.

She shakes her head as she forces her mind back to the present. “They have _ places _for that? Here in town?”

He scrunches up his face, looking half-annoyed that she’s interrupted him. “Are you even listening to me? Yes. Do you want me to call tomorrow? I know the owner.”

She chews on her lip, wrestling with her morals. It’s really hard to dig them up through the alcohol-induced brain sludge she’s wading through. 

“What the hell,” she mutters. “Call them.”

_ It’s been a damned year, _ she thinks, even her _ thoughts _ a bit slurred. _ Hard to be picky at this point. _

She swallows down the rest of her drink—shuddering a little as the alcohol that has settled to the bottom burns her throat. 

In the back of her mind she knows Sober Rey will not approve of the decision she’s just made, but then again, Sober Rey hasn’t gotten fucked in a year either—so maybe she’ll let this one slide. 

* * *

Sober Rey definitely had some bitching to do about Drunk Rey’s exploits, but after a long discussion about the intimate relationship they’ve both taken up with her vibrator—they’d come to a mutual decision.

She’s still not sure how she feels about Poe informing her that he’d _ paid _ for this _ appointment—_even as close as they are, it seems a little bit too _ Risky Business _for her tastes.

Apparently not enough to stop her from going, though, seeing as she’s standing outside the surprisingly normal-looking building downtown.

The corner lot is dark brick with tinted windows—no distinct markings of any kind—only the printed street number above the door to let her know she has the right place. 

It’s so _ normal _ looking. Not at all what she expected for a place like this. She imagines that’s strategic—_surely _ this sort of place isn’t exactly _ legal. _

She takes one last glance down at the single black card Poe had given her, the printed script reading nothing more than the address and a simple _ Magic Touch _over the front. 

With a deep breath and a slight shrug she moves for the front door—pulling it open as a little bell (_ Really? A bell?) _ sounds overhead. The entryway is sleek and clean and there are no overstuffed pillows or plumes of smoke but there _ is _the faint scent of a pleasant incense burning and she supposes that’s enough to satisfy her inner fantasies of what this place might be. 

The front desk is empty, and she isn’t sure whether to take a seat or continue to stand awkwardly in front of it—but her body seems to make the choice for her as she lingers near the front door, shifting from one foot to the other. 

Standing in the building leaves her a flustered mess of nerves, thoughts of _ what the fuck am I doing _ and _ can I really go through with this _bouncing around her head as she takes in the soothing cascade of water on the wall fountain and the lush greenery in the corners of the room. 

This place is _ swank_. It’s really _ nothing _at all what she thought it would be. That calms her a little bit. 

That is, until someone enters the room.

He’s massive. 

That’s the first observation that hits her dead in the face. 

Tall enough that the ceilings seem to be a hazard for the top of his head and broad enough that she finds herself thinking the room might be too small for him. 

He strolls out in a stark white polo that stretches across his broad chest—and she imagines that if cotton had a voice it would be screaming in agony at having been made to cover the massive expanse that is this man's torso. His white pants are in a similar dilemma—wrapped around powerful thighs that bleed into long legs and holy fucking _ shit _what size shoe does this man wear, a twenty?

She stares at his shoes for just a second too long, mentally picking apart the old _ you know what they say about big feet _saying, and it’s because of this foot-induced stupor that she misses his first greeting.

It’s only when he takes a step closer to duck down into view that she seems to snap out of it—drawn now to a plush mouth curled in a kind smile and dark eyes that remind her of chocolate and honey and _ how _is it legal to have hair like he has?

“Hello,” he repeats (she assumes he repeats, she has no idea what he said before). “Are you Rey?”

She nods dumbly, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’s stuck between assembling a fruit basket for Poe in her mind and wondering if there is some sort of weekly subscription program to this place. 

His grin hitches wider, revealing slightly imperfect teeth that somehow only add an endearing quality to his whole _ perfect specimen of man _ vibe, and she wonders if he can actually _ hear _her heart hammering in her chest. 

“Is this your first time?”

She feels her face heat. “What? No. Well. I mean, _ yes, _ but not here. It’s my first time here. At a place like this.” Her eyes widen. “Not a place like _ this— _ not that there’s anything _ wrong _with this place—”

His soft chuckle makes her swallow her babbling. “It’s okay to be nervous. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. I’m very good, I promise. You’ll feel like a new person after.”

Can you come from a professional guarantee? She contemplates the possibility as she discovers the visual delight that is his hands for the first time. His fingers look like the first explorers to discover the g-spot.

She’s sweating a little.

“I have a room prepared for you,” he’s saying. “I cleared my afternoon at Poe’s request. He’s a frequent customer.”

Her mouth falls open.

_ A frequent customer? _

“Oh,” she stammers. “So you get men _ and _women here?”

He gives her an amused expression. “Well, yes? It’s not exactly a gender-exclusive activity.”

She laughs nervously. “Right. Obviously. Yes.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Anyway, I’m Ben. I own the place. Your room is just down the hall there.” He points down a romantically lit hall towards a door at the end. “I’ll let you go in first and get settled while I prepare a few things. A lot of people like to get completely nude for this, but since it’s your first time, you’re welcome to do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

_ Oh, right to it then. Okay. _

“I just… strip? Just like that?”

He cocks an eyebrow, but he still looks slightly amused. Maybe a lot of people are nervous their first time. I mean who _ wouldn’t _be if this tree of a man comes out to greet them? 

“If you want,” he repeats. “There are towels and a robe for your use.”

She nods. “Okay. Well. I’ll… see you in there I guess.”

“Perfect. Don’t be nervous,” he reminds her gently. “I’m a professional.”

_ I’ll just bet you are, _she thinks. 

She watches him disappear into an office, chewing on her lip as she considers just leaving instead. Is this insane? What she’s doing? 

Still, Ben is… considerably more desirable of an option than good old Bob back home in her drawer… Even if it does have her a little weirded out that _ Poe _is a frequent customer here. 

Is that odd? Sharing an experience like this with Poe indirectly?

Also, is Poe really that hard up for dick? He’s a good looking guy, and fairly smooth from what she’s seen—in fact, she thought he and Finn from accounting were becoming a regular _ thing, _so why would he be coming here so often?

She thinks of Ben’s ass in those white pants as he stalked away, and suddenly she finds she isn’t as judgmental as she was a few seconds ago.

She steals another glance down the hall, taking a deep breath before making slow steps towards her room.

_ Well, _ she thinks. _ Guess we’re doing this. _

* * *

She’s decided for naked under a towel—but after ten minutes of Ben not showing back up—she’s starting to get really anxious about it. Maybe she should have at least left her underwear on. Maybe he’d want to take them off for her, or maybe that’s presumptuous. 

Is there any foreplay, or is it just wham, bam, thank you ma’am?

She wishes she’d at least asked Poe for some sort of rundown—but being gifted a session here seemed embarrassing enough as far as conversations go. 

She’s almost talked herself into putting them back on when the door handle wobbles—and she quickly presses herself against the oddly raised bed as she smoothes the towel over her front. 

“Hey,” he greets, closing the door behind him. “Doing okay?”

She nods shakily. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Poe said you’ve been incredibly tense lately, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in deep-tissue?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. Is that what they’re calling it now? “_D-deep tissue?” _

His lips curl at the corners as he moves to a table to sort through a number of bottles. He gives her a glance over his shoulder, that amused expression still on his face. She guesses she isn’t the first that has been intimidated by him. 

It doesn’t help that she can’t stop thinking about what’s under those damned white pants. 

“Why don’t you turn over on your stomach? I’ll help you relax.”

She swallows thickly, rolling over to her front to lay her head to the side as she situates the towel as quickly and deftly as she can over her ass. 

He reaches for the dial on the wall to dim the lights further, then turning to a little speaker, fiddles with it for a moment before soft music starts to play.

“Wow, that’s… romantic,” she says nervously.

“I guess it is,” he chuckles. “Does it bother you? I can put on something else.”

“No, no,” she corrects. “It’s fine.”

_ Better than obvious humping music I guess. _

She hears a cap opening and then a squirt of liquid and she stiffens because _ holy shit is that lube? _ But then she hears him rubbing his hands together, and then there is a heavy press of his fingers into her skin and _ oh, okay— _that’s very nice.

She makes a content sound as he kneads the muscles on either side of her spine—clenching her fingers at the hot rush of pleasure that it brings. He works higher until those large fingers are curling over her shoulders, rubbing into the skin there. 

“Mm,” she moans softly. “That’s nice.”

“Good?”

She nods lazily, nearly forgetting what she’s doing here. “So, is this just part of it?”

“Part of what, exactly?”

She keeps her eyes closed as a blush creeps up her neck as his wide palms flatten over her shoulders. “Your… business?”

“I mean… yes?”

He sounds genuinely confused, like she should possibly know this already. How is _ she _supposed to know about the ins and outs of this type of establishment?

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I think I’m still nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he urges quietly. She feels his hands moving lowering—brushing along the towel that is draped halfway up her back—causing him to still.

“Mind if I move this a little?”

She holds her breath as she nods. Is this it?

She feels him skirt the towel low enough to just _ barely _cover her ass—and then his fingers are pressing into the dimples just above to work soothing circles there.

As far as foreplay goes—it’s better than anything she’s ever gotten for free. She might be embarrassed by the quiet little noises that fall from her mouth, but she reminds herself that this is why she’s here. 

Even if Ben is taking his sweet time working up to it. 

“God, Ben,” she says breathily. “Your hands are just…”

She hears him clear his throat. “Good?”

“_So _good.”

His hands still just at the edge of the towel, and she thinks maybe this will be when he really _ dives _ into it. Her spine tenses, working at her lower lip with her teeth as she feels his hands hover over the towel—skirting over the curve of her ass without _ actually _touching. 

_ Just touch me already. _

But he doesn’t. He moves _ far _from where she wants him, his fingers working into her ankles instead. 

Well, okay. Slow game. She can respect that. Get Poe’s money’s worth. 

It isn’t like it’s been a _ year _or anything. 

She takes a deep breath, thinking a little conversation might break up the awkward air. “So how long have you been ah, doing this?”

“About six years now.”

“_Really?” _

He laughs, moving up to her calves. “Not what you’d expect me to be doing?”

She blushes. “Well. No, that’s not what I meant—I just—”

“It’s fine,” he tells her. “I’m used to it. I didn’t always do this.”

“No?”

“Mhm. I used to be a lawyer.”

“Oh, wow. Did you fall on hard times?”

His hands still. “Hard times?”

“That’s just usually what happens in the movies.”

She thinks he might be laughing at her, with the amused tone of his voice. “Do you see a lot of movies like that?”

Has this guy really never watched porn? That seems unlikely. 

She changes the subject. “So, what got you into this work?”

“I just like helping people.”

“Helping people,” she deadpans.

“Well, yeah.” His palms slide up the backs of her calves heavily until his fingers brush against her thighs. “Don’t you feel a little better?”

She lets her eyes drift closed as he begins to work her thighs. “Not yet,” she says boldly. “But keep going.”

She thinks she hears his breath catch a little, his hands foregoing their mission for only a _ moment _before he continues on. 

_ Good, _she thinks. Maybe she isn’t the only one thinking about how sturdy this table seems. Not that it isn't a given. 

She feels his fingers on her inner thighs, kneading and _ stroking, _and she feels herself getting wet only from his touch—and he hasn’t even touched anything important yet. 

His hands cover the entire expense of her thighs—his massive palms swallowing the entire width of her skin there, and she can’t help it—a sound escapes her throat before she can pull it back, echoing all the pent-up sexual energy she’s been repressing for the past year. 

She feels him still, hears the way his breath grows shallow, and surely he will go for it now, right? Surely the way her hips shift needily is evidence that she’s not really nervous anymore. Maybe he’s waiting for a sign to prove she’s ready.

She presses her thighs together unconsciously, and then she feels his hands pull away. She hears him take a step back, and she isn’t sure what’s happening, isn’t sure why he isn’t just _ fucking _her already—so she decides a clear sign is the best course of action.

She pushes up on her hands—moving to sit as she situates the towel in her lap, leaving her chest bare as she sits at the edge of the table. 

Ben’s eyes are wide and hungry as they rove over her tits—drinking in the sight of her and _ oh— _ a quick glance lower proves she is _ definitely _not the only one affected.

His pants are tented _ considerably— _what can only be a massively proportionate erection straining against the cotton of his white pants, as he stares back at her in a daze. He glances down at the front of his pants, his mouth falling open, and then he gives her most apologetic look she’s ever seen.

“I’m so sorry. I’m _ so _ sorry. I have never—this isn’t—this is _ so _unprofessional, and I—”

She cocks her head. What is this, some sort of role play? “Hey,” she soothes. “It’s okay. That’s what’s supposed to happen, right?”

He furrows his brow. “What? No. _ No. _ Of course not. It’s just that I—it’s just that _ you’re _so—”

She’s thoroughly confused now. “Did I mess something up?” She moves to cover her chest now, growing a bit embarrassed. “Is this not how it usually goes?”

“How it usually… _ No. _I’ve never had a massage go this way, I can assure you.”

Wait a minute. 

She purses her lips in thought. Did he just say…?

“A massage?”

He looks as confused as she feels. “Yes?”

“Wait.” She pulls the towel tighter around her front. “_ Wait. _Is this… What sort of business is this?”

Now he looks _ doubly _confused. “A… massage parlor?”

“Oh my God.” She feels heat creeping up her neck to flood her face. “_Oh my God_.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I have no idea how this happened.” She makes a face. “Or I _ do. _Too many tequila shots.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe this. I’m the stupidest fucking person on the planet. If you’ll let me get dressed, I’ll just go.”

“Hey.” He takes one long step with his mutant legs that brings him just in front of her, looking concerned. “_Hey. _What’s going on?”

“I thought—” She chokes on the words. How fucking _ stupid. “ _I thought you were a—”

He stares at her downturned face for several moments, and she flicks her eyes up to meet his gaze at the exact moment it all clicks. “You thought I was a…?”

She nods, her entire body warm with embarrassment and lingering remnants of arousal. 

He shakes his head as he tries to make sense of it. “How did you come to that assumption?”

“I don’t know.” She huffs out a breath. “I was _ so _ drunk when Poe told me he would make me an appointment, and we’d _ just _through talking about how I haven’t had sex in a year, and I just thought—”

“You haven’t had sex in a year?”

Her face flames further, and she drops it down to rest in her hands in mortification. “Oh my God.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers. “It’s just… I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

She peeks up at him through her fingers. “You do?”

“Um, yeah,” he snorts. “That’s a goddamned tragedy.”

She’s breathing hard now, and she’s still wet, and he’s _ definitely _still hard, and—

“Would it be..._ horribly _off-base to ask if you—”

“You want me to—?”

“Only if you want to.”

He swallows, his hands coming to rest on either side of her at the table, his fingers _ flexing _to grip the edge as she shifts a little, pressing her thighs tighter together. 

“I can’t… take care of your problem. Professionally, that is.” She drops her gaze to the floor, feeling embarrassment flood once more, but then his finger reaches to tilt her chin. “But I maybe could take care of it… unprofessionally. If you really want me to.”

She wants. She _ absolutely _ wants. She nods enthusiastically, and then his face lowers and he’s _ so close _ and it’s been _ such a long time _and she—

She imagines he meant to kiss her softly. Tentatively, even, but her body has other plans. Her fingers curl into the collar of his polo—tugging him closer as she practically assaults his mouth. 

If his groan is any indication, she doesn’t think he minds too much. 

Her towel is forgotten—slipping to her lap as cool air meets her bare nipples. She feels him reaching, his hands hovering in silent question, as his tongue traces her lower lip. She grabs for his hands just as she opens for him, pulling his palms to her chest at the same time his tongue sweeps through her mouth and she doesn’t even _ try _to hold back the satisfied moan that tumbles out of her. 

His thumbs brush against her nipples, his hands spanning nearly the entire width of her rib cage—and she arches into his touch just a little more as his teeth graze her lower lip. 

His hands slide lower—down her sides and over the soft swells of her hips, and she is all too aware that there’s nothing but a _ towel _between them. 

“Can I…?”

She nods against his mouth, scrambling to grab for the towel and toss it aside. “Please. Touch me.”

He breaks away, letting his forehead rest against hers as he peers down between her legs. “_Fuck.” _One large hand covers the top of her thigh—his thumb dipping between them. “Spread your legs for me.”

Her modesty is three sheets to the wind now, opening her legs without question. She hears him make some guttural sound deep in his throat, and then his fingers are teasing her slit—even _ this _tiny bit of contact, enough to make her shudder. 

His other hand fingers her chin, pulling her mouth back to his as one large finger slides through her folds to catch at her entrance. He curls it inside her as his tongue slides over hers, swallowing her gasp as he pushes deeper.

He roots his finger down to the last knuckle, his thumb pressing higher to find her clit as he rolls against it slowly. 

“Fucking criminal,” he murmurs against her mouth. “That this pretty little cunt has been empty for so long. You’re so warm and wet and _ tight _down here.”

_ Sweet mother of God, he's a talker. _

“_Ben,” _she whimpers.

He hooks his finger until he’s pressing into some place inside that makes her cry out, and she _ knew _ it—knew that those fingers knew what they were doing. Thank _ fuck. _His thumb presses harder into her clit—rolling it fervently as he rubs deep circles inside at a matching pace. 

“Can you come for me like this?” His lips move along her jaw now—gliding lower until they find a spot below her ear she hadn’t even known existed. One that apparently makes her mewl like a fucking _ kitten. _ “You’re so _ little, _ Rey _ ,” _ he hums into her skin. “Want you good and relaxed. Want to make sure I’ll fit.”

“Oh _ fuck.” _

Her orgasm catches her off guard, and she’s unsure if it was his fingers or his mouth or maybe even his damn _ voice _that did it—but she’s soaking his hand and shaking against his body as one strong arm pulls her close.

His tongue brushes against her throat, still thumbing lazily at her clit as he works her through climax. “Just like that, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

He pulls away to glance between them, both of them watching as he withdraws his hand, and Rey nearly comes all over again as he brings it to his mouth to suck his fingers clean. 

She realizes just how exposed she is, and she reaches to tug at the hem of his polo in an attempt to even things up. He lets her pull it over his head, and she’s a little dumbstruck by a chest bigger than hers and an abdomen she could have a meal on.

But he’s kissing her again—even as she drops her hand to press it against the hardened length of him through his cotton pants. She strokes him through the fabric, gripping and squeezing until he’s making all the noises he’s pulled from her.

“Rey,” he groans. “I don’t have a—_ fuck, _I just realized I don’t have a—”

“Birth control,” she whispers hoarsely. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure you want to—”

“A _ year, _Ben,” she grinds out, reaching for the hem of his pants. 

It’s a stretchy cotton of some sort, and it’s easy to tug the waistband out and under. Easy to reach inside his boxer briefs and grip his cock as she frees it. Her hand barely fits around it—and her insides clench around nothing in anticipation. 

She gives him a testing stroke, enjoying his shudder as he murmurs, “A little harder.”

She grips him tighter—jerking her fist up to the head as he thrusts forward instinctively. “If it hadn’t been so long I’d want to get my mouth on you. Jesus, Ben.”

“Next time,” he murmurs, and she can’t help the little shiver of delight that he thinks there will be a _ next time. _

But his hands find her hips—scooting her to the edge of the table and settling between her legs. He takes over from where she’s gripping him, wrapping one large hand at the base and rubbing the head of his cock through her folds until it’s shiny and wet. 

The height of the table is perfect for this, and it’s easy—when he catches the wide head at her slick hole. He pushes forward just a fraction, neither of them breathing as they watch her body open up for him—watch her cunt swallow the head of him greedily even as the slight burn of the stretch makes her hiss through her teeth. 

“_So tight,” _ he breathes finally. “Fucking _ criminal.” _

Her hands scramble for purchase—clawing at his hips mindlessly as she tilts her pelvis, trying to bring him further inside. Ben just holds her still, grasping her waist firmly and pushing inside at that same slow pace as he just watches it happen. 

“Ben,” she whines. “Please, just—”

Her breath catches as he buries himself to the hilt in one swift stroke—her hands curling under his arms to cling to his shoulders as his warm breath huffs out against her throat. She feels his lips there—pressing light little kisses down the length of her neck before his tongue flicks out to taste. 

“You should be fucked _ every _ single day,” he grates. “Every _ ”— _ he withdraws slowly as her inner walls cling to him greedily—“ _ single”— _he lingers with only the head inside, huffing out a breath just before slamming back into her—“day.”

He rests his head on her shoulder, still peering down where they’re joined, she suspects, as he begins to fuck into her at a brutal pace. 

It’s been too long for this, and her body is on a precipice of pleasure-pain because he’s so _ big _ but it’s so _ good _ and she never wants him to _ stop. _

His hands slide under her thighs, pulling at them until they’re wrapped around his waist so he can tilt her backwards—bracing his hands on the table to reach a new depth that has her gasping.

“Oh God,” she whimpers. “_Fuck. Yes.” _

“Do you like that, Rey?” He jolts her body with a punishing thrust. “How about now—don’t you feel a little better?”

She shuts her eyes tight against the overwhelming pressure deep inside. “Just like that. _ Please.” _

She touches him everywhere she can reach—hands moving over his chest and shoulders and into his hair to _ tug— _ and she hears his hissed breath before his lips find hers and he’s still sliding into her again and _ again. _

She moans when she feels his thumb at her clit—pressing into it without pretense as his tongue presses deeper into her mouth to tangle with hers. Her grip on his hair is so tight it must be painful—her legs around his waist so tight it must be a chore to slam into her the way he is. 

That tight ball of hot pressure begins to build just inside—winding tighter and tighter with every heavy brush of his thumb at her clit, and she feels her inner walls clenching around him helplessly. 

“Can I—” He sucks her lower lip into his mouth as his hips stutter. “Inside—can I—”

“Yes,” she grits out. “Come inside.”

Her cunt flutters and _ grips, _ and he’s _ shaking _nearly as badly as she is. His breath leaves him in labored pants now, and she feels it—feels his cock swell and twitch just as her insides begin to quiver, and it’s right there—just a little more—

She comes with a strangled cry—Ben holding her tight as he shudders through his own orgasm. 

He continues to pull her lazily up and down his length, only stilling when he has nothing left to give her. Her muscles are heavy and her head is spinning a little, but she doesn’t think she’s ever felt so damned _ sated _ in her entire life. 

“I’m just saying,” she says breathlessly. “You could probably make a lot of money in the ah, other business.”

He huffs out a laugh before he turns his face to kiss her—lips pressed to hers lazily as if savoring. He lets his forehead rest against hers when he breaks away, grinning softly. 

“I can definitively say this is _ not _how I saw my day going.”

Her lips curl. “Are you complaining?” 

“No,” he snorts. “No, I’m not.”

He slides out of her with a wince, reaching for the towel she tossed aside and running it between her legs to clean her up before stopping to gather her folded clothes from beneath the table. 

He watches her dress, not even trying to hide his appreciation for her, only reaching for his own discarded shirt when she’s shimmying into her jeans. 

“What are you doing for the rest of the night?”

She glances up with a raised eyebrow as he shrugs into his polo. “You mean if I ever remember how to walk?” He grins, nodding softly, and she shrugs. “No plans… why?”

“Come to dinner with me.”

She bites back a smile. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then I’m saying yes.”

His smile widens, and he steps across the space easily as his covers her jaw in his hands. He kisses her slowly, eyes drifting closed as his hands wander to pull her close. 

“You can’t tell Poe about this,” she mutters. 

He frowns. “Wait a minute… So, when I told you that Poe was a frequent customer…?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t judge.”

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs. “Yeah, no. Poe does _ not _need to find out.”

She presses up on her toes, brushing her lips against his softly with a grin. “Agreed.”

* * *

It takes Poe about three months to discover just how Ben and Rey’s first appointment went. 

He’s laughing from across the bar next to his boyfriend, Finn, and Rey files the moment away as yet another reason why she shouldn’t drink much. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Poe says through tears of laughter. “You thought that I bought you a _ prostitute?” _

Rey groans, laying her head on the bar. “Shut up.”

“I have to know how that went. Were you just waiting for him when he walked in like, _ take me I’m yours?” _

“_ No _.” She heaves out a sigh. 

Ben snorts beside her. “Not _ quite, _at least.”

She raises up to smack Ben’s arm. “Don’t you dare.”

“I mean… you were… _ fairly _straight-forward in your intentions.”

“It had been a _ year,” _she grinds out. 

Poe leans over with his chin on his fists, a shit-eating grin on his face. “And now? Have we made up for lost time?”

Rey attempts her best demure expression, shrugging one shoulder, but Ben is way ahead of her—taking a long sip from his glass before he says, “I’d say we’re up to a year’s worth now.”

Her mouth falls open. “_Ben.” _

He turns to pull her into his side, smacking a kiss against her temple. As soon as Poe is able to stop laughing, he and Finn fall into their own conversation, and Ben ducks his head to bring his mouth closer to Rey’s ear. 

“I think I can surpass it too—if you come home with me.”

She bites her lip. “I’ve been there every night this week.”

“If I had my way you’d never leave,” he murmurs. 

Her face splits in a grin then. “Is that so?”

“It is.” 

She turns to find his mouth, kissing him just a _ little _inappropriately for the public setting—and it’s only when Poe clears his throat, that they finally break apart. 

“So, uh, Ben,” Poe chuckles. “Can I make an appointment? You know… For the _ special?” _

Rey narrows her eyes, but Ben just laughs. “I reserve the special for Rey now, I guess.”

“Not you too,” she groans, rolling her eyes. 

He grins. “You love me.”

She sighs, leaning into his chest as he kisses her hair. “Yeah, I do,” she smiles. “I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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